A Raw, Unedited Marigold Man Excerpt

(In which Paul’s neighbor, Condor, suggests that Project Marigold might be more successful with a team of people planting plants, instead of just Paul planting seeds on his own.  Note:  I haven’t re-written or edited this.  It is raw, baby, raw.  No apologies for any mistakes, errors, or things that sound dumb.)

Condor and I stepped outside onto his terrace.  It was as if a wet blanket had been spread on the neighborhood, the humid, moist air hung so heavily.  The sky had grown darker, too, great gray clouds sailing above us, great ships, heavy with their wet cargo.  “Looks like it’s really going to storm, soon.  Should we move the operation indoors?” I asked.  “No way, man.  Are you kidding?  I’m not going to let a little rain spoil grilling.”  Grilling was one of Condor’s hobbies, almost one of his loves.  He knew all about rubs and mops and what wood should smoke what meat.  His grilling abilities were famous.  He had even won a few ribbons.  He lighted the charcoal, got it settled and set, and turned to me and said, “Paul, look at me.  Look me in the eye and tell me you’re ready to give this thing up.”  I didn’t say anything for a minute.  I watched the smoke rise from the charcoal and rise up into the sky, joining the huge gray ships overhead.  The flotilla was increasing, more and more joining, all hugely laden with rain.  In the distance I heard thunder, cannon fire from one of the ships.  “No, Condor, I don’t.  You know I don’t.  But I’m a little stuck.  The idea didn’t quite qo the way I meant it to.”  More thunder in the distance, this time a little closer.  The coals had caught and the fire was spreading to the others, the black blocks turning gray.  “I’ve been thinking about your project.  I have to tell you, it’s been on my mind a lot.  I don’t know why, but it’s so crazy it’s attractive.  I can understand why you did this.”  More thunder, more dark clouds sailing above, the coals getting hotter, not quite ready for the meat, but getting closer.  “Yeah.  It was something I love I was doing for a good purpose, yet it was a little bit outside the usual.  It wasn’t illegal or wrong, but it felt a little risky, planting those seeds in public, especially on property I knew was being guarded.  I really don’t want to give it up.”  For a few minutes we stood there in silence, sipping our beers, glancing at the sky, watching the coals.  “I have an idea.”  Condor spoke those four words.  I saw a flash: lightning had struck.  Counted the seconds, got to five, eight, ten, then the thunder.  It was still a little ways away, but a storm was for sure coming.  “An idea?” I stupidly responded, “what are you talking about?”  “Listen,” he said, lowering his voice, conspiratorially, though no one else was there, “I’ve been thinking about this.  You know I love growing things, too, just like you.  My work has always been trees, but I love a garden, love tending growing things.”  More thunder, this time closer.  The coals were nearly ready, their heat growing and growing.  “I don’t think seeds are the way to go.  They are romantic, you know, the whole Johnny Appleseed thing, but they need special care at the beginning.  Once a plant has started, especially one as sturdy and prolific as a marigold, it will do better on it’s own.”  I immediately saw the truth of what he said, but I didn’t see where he was going with it.  “Condor, it would take a long time to plant any significant amount of actual marigold plants anywhere.  I would only be able to do a few in any given amount of time.  And how would I carry them all?  The beauty of seeds is that they are lightweight and easy to carry.”  A few drops of rain had started to fall.  The thunder was booming louder.  He dumped the red-hot coals from the starter into the grill, spread them around, looked at me and said, “I’m going to get the meat.  You hold that thought.”  What could he have in mind?  Wait a minute, I wonder if he… a crash of thunder interrupted my thought.  Condor dashed out with a platter of pork.  “Paul,” he stabbed a piece of meat with the fork and set it on the grill.  “You need a team.”  Another piece of meat stabbed and placed, more drops of rain, not enough to get us wet but the ships were about to release their cargo, any minute now.  “A team?”  I asked.  “You mean, a group of people working on this?”  I smiled.  “Team Marigold?”  “Exactly,” another stab, another thunder clap, the storm almost here.  “Yes.  A small group of people to help grow and plant marigolds.  We’ll come up with ways to make it easy to carry and plant a lot. It makes so much sense.”  Crash, more thunder, the meat platter was almost empty, Beth stuck her head out the door, “You better get in.  That storm is almost here.”  “Be right there, honey almost done.”  He stabbed the last piece.  “Yes.  A team.  In my early days as a forrester, we planted trees in the woods, replanted areas that had been burned, or cleared.  I could plant fifty baby trees in a few hours.  It would still be your idea.  You’d be the boss.   You’re the one with the greenhouse.  I figure we could grow a lot of marigolds there.  I think I know of a few more people who might be interested.  Maybe you do too.  Whaddaya think?”  Now we were getting wet.  He had been shaking seasonings on the meat, flipped them, more seasonings, Boom, another crash of thunder.  “Let me think about it.  I’ll let you know.”  ‘OK,” he shouted over the rain that was starting to come down in earnest.  He set the grill’s vents and we dashed in.  We didn’t raise the marigold idea again that evening, but I mulled it over, thought about what he had said.  It made sense, a lot of sense.  I didn’t like the idea of losing control over the idea but on the other hand, what was I controlling then?  Did I have any flowers to show for my work?  And he was right.  An established flower would be stronger.”  Excuse me for saying it this way, but a seed had been sown.  I let it germinate for a while.

About literarylee

I sling words for a living. Always have, always will. Some have been interesting and fun; most not. These days, I write the fun words early in the morning before the adults are up and make me eat my Cream of Wheat.
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